


Sweet Victory

by Jairissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairissa/pseuds/Jairissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last impressions, perhaps, were the ones to be trusted. Maybe next time she'd listen to her own warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Victory

She swanned through the Ministry as though every man were watching her. Hell, almost every man _was_ watching her, eyeing the flick of her blonde hair, or the swell of her breasts underneath her barely there black shirt. 'Let them stare' had been her motto, and she seemed to be putting that well into practice.

Teddy took a perverse pleasure in watching her. Once this show had been for him; every movement of her hair and graceful sway of her hips designed to appeal to his taste, and his alone. That she seemed, entirely unconsciously, to have kept to many of those mannerisms after only increased the appeal of it.

He wondered if she had seen him. He was hard to miss, his turquoise hair bright in the gloomy light, but she did no so much as blink her eyes in his direction. Her last words to him had been " _vous êtes un pathétique excuse pour un wizard et je ne veux plus jamais voir votre visage de nouveau,_ " roughly translated, he had found out later, as _you are a pathetic excuse for a wizard, and I never want to see you again_. He would not put it past her to find a way to make those words literal.

It was the curve of her arse that did him in. More specifically, it was the way her tight leather pants moulded to it, caressing it gently and highlighting how perfectly a man's hands would fit there as he guided himself into what it, so barely, hid.

Thank Merlin it was Friday. A phrase people used every week, and Teddy himself rarely meant. Had he not known how painful a hangover could be, he would have welcomed work the next day. It was almost a shame he was no longer 17 -- they had been so much easier to deal with then.

Swinging his legs over the ridiculously uncomfortable metal chair, Teddy pulled his cloak over his shoulders, deciding to make his way to the nearest club. Had he wanted only for a drink, he would have gone to his usual haunt, a pub mere seconds from his apartment. Pubs, however homelike hey were, could not give him what he needed a this moment. It would have to be an unreasonably loud and pretentious club, which required large amounts of dancing, smiling and lying. Thankfully they also served hard alcohol; sharp, potent and went down so easily Teddy could almost believe he were drinking pumpkin juice like a toddler.

" _She's_ here again," the bartender said after his sixth, eyeing Teddy speculatively. "Y'know, you might have a chance there, mate. She tends to go for the pretty ones, and the strange ones."

Teddy followed the bartender's gesture, dizzy enough that it took him a full minute to properly focus his yes. Indeed there was a 'she' there, fairly glowing with her own radiance and capturing the attention of everyone in the building that had any form of functioning sight.

Her hair whipped as she danced, so lost in the music that she didn't seem to notice the way everyone around her needed to touch her, caressing both bare and clothes skin alike. A dark haired man moved closer, stroking her cheek with gentle fingers. Teddy smiled in amusement, tossing a few coins on the bar and standing to stretch his legs.

Raising his arms above his head in a mockery of dancing, Teddy found that the dance floor wasn't as large as he had originally thought. It took only a few steps to find himself at Victoire's side, lifting the unfortunate man off his feet and depositing him into a pot plant, insinuating himself into his place.

Victoire barely noticed, eyes closed as she moved to the beat. Teddy took her hand to twirl her around, pressing himself into the heat she was generating, brushing his lips over her fingertips. She hadn't bothered to change from her office clothes, a habit she had retained from childhood. Even then she hadn't wanted to wear 'nice' clothes, claiming it was far too hard to play when she had to worry about getting dirty.

Cupping her face, Teddy traced the contours of her lower lip, watching her shudder. "Come home with me," he whispered, leaning down to caress her ear with his lips so that only she could hear him. She nodded, breath holding for a moment before she opened her eyes to see what she had agreed to.

Something in her eyes caught and Teddy snaked an arm around her hips, hoping to trap her should she decide to get away. Surprisingly, as Victoire always managed to surprise him, she didn't bother to try. Her face hardened, so briefly that Teddy was sure he must have imagined it, her fingers winding their way though his belt loops, shrugging off the dark-haired man who had appeared at her shoulder.

He couldn't help but smirk in triumph, biting roughly on the ear he had teased. Victoire moaned against his heck, and Teddy abandoned all pretence of indifference, forgoing the walk of pride to the club's entrance and apparating them both directly to his apartment door. Thankfully it was inside this time; the first few attempts, years ago now, had landed him either in the hallway outside or, on one particularly unpleasant occasion, splinched right in the middle of his front door.

Teddy didn't give her a chance to speak, covering her lips with his before she could make a sound. There was a rush of breath between them, the gap between skin closing. Someone had sighed; Teddy hadn't the faintest idea which of them it was.

It was unusually easy to remove his shirt when they broke for air, tossing it over his shoulder. Thankfully her hands were busy divesting him of his pants, which allowed him to run his hands over the curves that had fascinated him earlier.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, shoving Victoire's shirt up to her neck. He expected some form of answer, even if it were a snort at his fake-sentimentality. The silence was almost punishing; were Teddy not so pleasantly fuzzy he thought be might be hurt by it.

"I don't care what you say anyway," Teddy muttered, hauling Victoire off her feet, pushing them both towards the bedroom. She wound her legs around his hips as she kissed him anew, tongue tracing the outline of his mouth while Teddy banged against the door frame in his desperation to make it to his bed.

 _Yes you do_ her eyes said clearly when he broke the kiss, her lips remaining mute. Digging his fingers into the soft skin of her side, wanting to hurt her more for every second she gloated, Teddy grazed his teeth along her throat, pulling harshly on her hair to force her head back.

"You can't win this," she hissed, running her nails down his bare back. Teddy growled, reaching for the zip on her pants. Once undone he hauled them down to her calves, ignoring her gasp of shock.

"I already have," Teddy said, pushing her legs apart and settling himself between them. He thought for a moment that she would protest, closing herself off to him. He was about to give up hope, to decide between leaving and taking what she had so clearly been offering when she relaxed, pulling him down for rough kiss.

Exhaling, Teddy slid himself inside her, burying his head against her throat so that he would not have to look her in the eye. "See?" He asked roughly, rewarded with a deep groan and the painful tugging of his hair. "I always win."

She spoke again, words he didn't let her finish. "Only," she said and he could finish the phrase for her. _In your dreams_. It was always in their dreams, Teddy made sure of that. He knew what Victoire would say, he refused to listen. He didn't need to dream, not with reality staring him coldly in the face.

The place where her pulse beat under her skin, the movement a tattoo under his lips, had always been a weak point. Teddy exploited it mercilessly, sucking so harshly on it that he knew the mark would last for days; her skin had always bruised too easily.

"Ted," she groaned, cutting herself off before she could finish his name. It didn't matter. She had given in first and they both knew it. He rewarded her with a soft kiss to the raised, red area, brushing over it as lightly as he could.

Victoire's breath was coming in puffs against Teddy's ear, soft, moans increasing each time he thrust. "Come on," he whispered impatiently, biting on the inside of his cheek in a final attempt at restraint. "Come on, Vic, come on..."

The words were too close to their first time, Teddy knew it. Still, when the choice came down to repetition of leaving her unfulfilled, knowing that each time he looked at her he would see it again, he would always choose the memory.

"No," she breathed, claw-like fingernails raking down his neck. "No, no, no, not yet..."

Teddy grinned, sliding a hand between their sweaty bodies so that he could rub a finger against her clit. He had one again, it was only a matter of time now. Victoire sobbed, stiffening against him. "No, not yet, no," she repeated, hips arching against his hand.

"Yes," he demanded, tasting the blood that pooled in his mouth each time he bit down on his cheek. "Now."

He hadn't expected it to work, had thought that his demand would only cause her to fight harder. That only made it even sweeter for Teddy when he felt her shudder, legs so tightly bound around his hips that he half believed they were a part of him.

"Yes," he echoed, revelling in the freedom to forget about her breathy cries and concentrate fully on the way she clenched around him, and how damned perfect she smelled when he pressed his face to her collarbone. _Yes_. It didn't matter that he didn't pull out of her in time, that she would despise him even more in the morning. None of it mattered in the slightest, not while breath caught so perfectly in his throat and his body clenched in the pure relief of his climax.

Afterwards he collapsed beside her, arm instinctively twitching to pull her into his arms. Thankfully he caught himself in time; that time bomb wasn't his to protect any more. Let her react how she wanted.

His steadying breath brought a wave of nausea with it, forcing Teddy out of bed and into his pathetic excuse for a kitchen. Beer was the one thing he always had stocked, and he pulled one out of the fridge, tossing the lid in the bin and taking a deep swig of it.

"Toss one over here," Victoire's hauntingly familiar voice said from behind him. Teddy obeyed her wordlessly, watching mutely as she opened the lid with the hem of one of his own shirts that she had evidently salvaged from his closet.

He could see her eyes wandering, examining his kitchen with a trained eye. She hadn't been here before, he realised with a jolt. He was so used to her being a figure of his past; somehow he had forgotten that past wasn't a fixed period of time before now.

"Favourite porn star?" She asked wryly, focusing on a picture on his fridge. Teddy shook his head and Victoire's smile took on a wicked tilt. "Ex-girlfriend?"

"Current," he said shortly, taking another gulp of his beer. Victoire's smile snapped of her face in an instant, eyebrows raising so high she almost looked like his cousin Draco.

"Current?" She asked dangerously, dropping her beer onto the counter. It collapsed onto its side, spilling amber liquid across the marble surface and onto the floor. Neither of them made a move to catch it. "What the _hell_ , Teddy?"

That was the same too. Teddy shrugged and smiled to hide the strange uneasiness, swilling the last of the beer in his bottle before downing it in one mouthful. "You were right about me," he said simply, meeting her brown eyes with his own currently grey ones.

Victoire didn't answer, apparating from his kitchen. He waited, downing another beer while he did before moving back to his bedroom, giving her enough time to collect her clothes. He was wrong, it would seem; her clothes remained exactly where they had discarded them.

Her choice, he decided using his wand to banish it to wherever things went when they were banished: the theory had never been his strong suit. Pulling his boxers on, he turned back towards the kitchen, ripping the picture of Celeste off his fridge and tossing it into the bin as he pulled out his stack of takeaway menus. Indian sounded perfect. Throw in a side of naan and he had enough for leftovers for the morning, when he inevitably wouldn't be bothered to cook.

He flicked on the TV, pretending he didn't hear the slow drip of the beer off the counter, closing his eyes as he waited for dinner to come.


End file.
